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tangshunzi Jul 2014
Si può o non può avere sentito un po 'di qualcuno di nome Kelly Clarkson sono sposati lo scorso fine settimana .E il suo matrimonio?Total .TOTALE .Svenire .Le nostre LBBers talento ultra dietro Archetype Studio Inc. ha fatto gli onori di catturare il giorno e stanno dando a noi anatre poco fortunati una sbirciatina a tutti la bella .


e dire la verità .un piccolo sguardo a Tennessee fattoria matrimonio di Kelly è tutto quello che dobbiamo sapere che siamo con tutto il cuore in amore .Non siete d'accordo



?
Fotografia : Archetype Studio Inc. | Abito da sposa: " Jessamine " by Temperley London | Anelli : Johnathon Arndt | capelli: Robert Ramos | Vestito dello sposo : John Varvatos | Fascia : Maria Elena | Trucco : Ashley Donovan | Stylist : Steph Ashmore| Luogo: Blackberry Farm

Prima di testa fuori nel fine settimana .abbiamo pochi vincitori super speciale !

Emily R abiti da sposa 2014 portato a casa un paio di Wedgewood Vera **** abiti da sposa 2014 Amore Nodi tostatura flauti da Secrets abiti da sposa corti Puerto Los Cabos Golf \u0026Spa Resort !Woohoo!

E complimenti a Fiona McGregor \u0026Nick Connellan .che hanno vinto una sessione impegno libero da Adrian Tuazon Fotografia !

Buon fine settimana !xoxo SMPTemperley London è un membro del nostro Look Book .Per ulteriori informazioni su come vengono scelti i membri .fare clic qui .Archetype Studio e Adrian Tuazon Fotografia sono membri del nostro Little Black Book .Scopri come i membri sono scelti visitando la nostra pagina delle FAQ .Archetype Studio Inc. vedi portfolio Adrian Tuazon Fotografia VIEW
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Nozze di Kelly Clarkson - A Sneak Peak_vestiti da sposa
Mary McCray Apr 2014
(NaPoWriMo Challenge: April 24, 2014)


A few nights ago my parents and I watched an HBO movie called “Phil Spector” starring Helen Mirren, (did you know she’s the same age as Cher?), Al Pacino, (in one of his best performances IMHO), and Jeffrey Tambor, (for those fans of “The Larry Sanders Show,” “Arrested Development” and, if you’re old enough, latter-day “Three’s Company”).

The moral of Spector’s involvement in the Lana Clarkson death-story can be read as “appearances are deceptive.”

Being beautiful, being rich, being happy.

The moral of this HBO movie could be read as movies themselves are deceptive. The HBO narrative tried to tell a story about how to tell a story about reasonable doubt. The movie itself left out some pretty pertinent facts about the case, such facts as Spector’s defense team might have left out, facts that may have been used to convict Spector later on… in the part of the story the HBO movie did not tell.

Facts around the periphery and facts mingling in the mix.

(The ****** towel in the bathroom, evidence of attempts made to clean up the scene, incriminating language said to a driver and then later during questioning by police.)

Shaky, addled hands can make mistakes. But then, appearances are deceptive.

Then there was the doubt, somewhat reasonable, a kind of doubt that hovers around the line, quavering, moving both ways.

Experience would indicate that sometimes barking dogs do bite. The headless and the dog-bitten will tell you that. The infamous Wall-of-Sound gun-pointer. The boy who cries wolf often finds himself in a pickle. Or a prison.

See? I use my experience to argue a point, to “sway the jury,” in another words to “deceive.”

Reconstructions are stories are usually deceptive.

A bullet in the mouth is less so.

Whether Phil Spector murdered Lana Clarkson—that is neither here nor there. A story will not tell you that.

So then what will?
Alexander S Mar 2010
In school we learn to be
Not intuitive nor ambitious
Or creative even
In school we learn to take
Not the path with the
Most vibrant colors
But the flattest one.
College is charged
With the castration of young minds
And too often we forget
Just what is left behind
Do I want to write this essay
On the interesting or the easy
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
i'm not your friend, i'll never be one,
playing dumb by using the psychiatric terminology
of word salad thinking it isn't degrading will
only give you the feeling your father proved adequate
at: feeling bricks, and mortar... play me the violin
now.

i'm still 100 poles digging
up a swimming pool
of the affairs of rich richards,
i might have expatriated
but in number i'm just
an immigrant, easy joke
of the irish deeming sensibility,
comrade clarkson and the sunday
writers... they really do make
the other days spare...
drive six days a week, write
once upon a time,
i wish i had the full extent of
rage that fictional writers encompass,
but i'm writing poetry, so i'm not allowed
the excesses of prose,
i'm supposed to drown the remainder rage
in the heart and turn it into love of
some sort, some kind of assortment
that will be unable to migrate...
i sometimes wish i was abandoned
with my grandparents than fulfil
the wish my father had to have a father,
at least i wouldn't be despised or abhorred
or joked at... because a would be murderer
walked free... and i was called a murderer
for committing a ****** known as suicide
without reprisals of justice...
now constantly engaged in suicide
for no wish of life... and still *the joke

in ireland... eerie land by most count
of the bended knee on stone dribbled into
confession at the zenith of golgotha...
well, i could be mistaken for a colonist,
an anti-colonial punch-bag...
and so the world took form as that.
Jessica Jun 2013
When the first time I see you...
My mind blew up
It drive me crazy
When you say I love You
£
But now,
I realize...
It just a fake, a nonsense
I achieved from you
£
You're moving on
You leave a scar deep in my heart
You leave a memories I couldn't forget
A beautiful memories that hurt
£
I standing here alone
With the pain inside me
But I know I am strong
I have to take this pain
I know I can
£
I just stay here
Watching you
No matter the sun getting hot
No matter the nights getting colder
£
I am here waiting for you
You hurt me but I faithful
Your love
My love
We will start this all over again
£
Without pressure
Without pain
Without broken heart
£
Love,
Sometimes hurt
But broken heart can't stop me
Like Kelly Clarkson song
£
What doesn't **** you
Always make you stronger
Inspired by a song ;)
Francisco DH Jan 2013
I guess Kelly Clarkson was right
What doesn't **** you makes you stronger

I haven't died from the pain held inside
Nor have I bruised much
My heart has broken but nothing a little Duct Tape can't fix
Nothing a little glue can't fix

Maybe it is like when you break a bone
It hurts like hell
But Once in a cast it begins the process of healing
It itches like hell
and I might have to use a pencil or two to get rid of the itch but
then Once the cast is off I will be able to use it

Yeah maybe My heart will be like that
Wrote this a while back
Tim Knight May 2015
Take your ******* fedora off you are not a Jones.
Kid, leave the captain's hat on, gods know you're going it need now,
those waves are knee dip and those rip-tides drag:
lay flat across the hull in dreams of concrete and something a little more stable
until someone takes over,
guides you back home to the lit terraces,
glowing apartment advent calendar,
lighthouses of cushions
and the sofa just how you left it.

Within simple pleasures sleep intricate tasks,
curled up dogs at the foot of fires:
someone please tell them their Dalmatian died whilst they were on holiday,
he was
below
the radiator in the spare playground.
Am I a weak man? it asked the black marble glare of the corner skirting board joint.
Am I meant to feel like that gasp after a slow kiss? that come back for more
               Godfather Part Two again,
               Lord of the Rings: Return of the King,
               rumble string of motorcycle parade through tarmac and your core
               sat crossed legged on any first school floor.
AM morning calls to vets,
stumble for words and
over the abbreviations,
the IAADP have got your back in case Gandalf ever witnesses your blinding,
forever led forth by a lead and little more faith in something worth confessing over.

Love is a tango
it's too hot to handle,
someone sang in a spontaneous smoking area
spawned from a spare terracotta *** and someone asking for help once,
so nervous their knees quaked,
slow down reigns not effective once their BPM was past 200 whatever
Jeremy Clarkson was screaming that week,
but their eyes,
they were knocking down walls with toffee hammers,
scattering chunks under werthy wooden horses,
rubbing sweet stud wall shards into coarse prison gravel with waiting soles,
whistling so not to give the game away.
Escape now back to a Lowell of an old park bench,
dig through **** and pipelines of earth for
canons of authors stacked high in front of you,
you awfully well bled individual,
the wounds from those words about to heal
all the slips you fell into
dragged yourself out of,
clawed back your fedora through more doorways than you can
remember: it always gets you into trouble.
Kid, one thing at once.
coffeeshoppoems.com
"All I Want" (A Day To Remember)
is for "You And I" (Anarbor)
to "Shine On" (Jet)
but it's not "All About Us" (He Is We, ft. Owl City)
and "If I Leave" (A Day To Remember)
will you come "And Run" (He Is We)
"A Thousand Miles" (Vanessa Carlton)
with me "When The Darkness Comes" (Colbie Caillat)
but let's not "Blame It On The Rain" (He Is We)
and don't think that my "Darkside" (Kelly Clarkson)
exists just to "Prove You Wrong" (He Is We)
I know "It's Complicated" (A Day To Remember)
but "Since U Been Gone" (A Day To Remember cover)
I've been feeling like your "Number One Enemy" (Daisy Dares You, ft Chipmunk)
and all I want to do is write you a "Love Song" (Sara Bareilles)
to show you that I'm "Still Into You" (Paramore)
So don't think that "Big Yellow Taxi" (Counting Crows)
is going to be your "Savior" (Rise Against)
but "Here It Goes Again" (Ok Go)
so don't think about "Everything I'm Not" (The Veronicas)
while I just sit here with "My Shiny Teeth And Me" (Chip Skylark)
trying to catch "Fireflies" (Owl City)
in a jar shaped like a "Skyscraper" (Demi Lovato)
so don't act like "It's The End Of The World As We Know It" (REM)
because in "One Week" (The Barenaked Ladies)
we'll all just be "Heroes And Thieves" (Vanessa Carlton)
Daniello Mar 2012
There is a corridor that has escaped
and is out and is cold
and is overlooking Clarkson avenue.
That much I know for sure.

Because I turned
the cold brass ****
of the cold steel door,
heard the wind bellowing
obscenities as it absconded
berserkly. (I think
the other way.)
And also
walked through.

My mother’s voice has been
droned out by electronic
waves tentacling the immediate
space around me, around her,
and everywhere in between.
She sounds like a strange

robot, made-up. By me?
By God? It doesn’t matter.
Because that is
what is heard now.
That voice telling me with
the tragic kindness of
a mother
that I’ve forgotten
to call her, and my
dad, and my
sister,

and how come, have I
been busy?
How is life treating you?
Pretty good, I say. What’s
new? Nothing. Well then
what’s pretty good
about it, she says.
I laugh, she laughs too,
and I laugh again, inside though,

differently.
Slowly, our voices
wind down and we say
quiet goodbyes so that
I feel ice
about to rush to my
nose, it’s tentative, it
stops, and I
hang up the phone.

I am on the 6th floor of
a sick house, a hospital,
where some are healed,
some die, and others
stay sick. On the
ground, hundreds of feet
down and away
there are people I think, they
look so

small. An obese
mother, probably with
diabetes or hypertension or
heart disease or all of it
together, pushing her
baby in a carriage. A
smoker alone smoking
away something I’m
glad I don’t know and
other people just walking,
moving, like small living

things and then
I look down, closer,
at my own hands growing.
They can be
so large
when they move to
slowly cover
eyes.
Journal Entry #3

It's been a few days since I listened to all those songs that reminded me of you.
But before I begin..
Lemme just ask..
Have you ever listened to a song that just touched you?

Its weird just today I was on my way home driving in the snow.
This song came on that I hadn't heard in years and it brought me to tears.
Not tears of sadness, but tears of happiness.
This song reminded me of who I use to be.
So confident.
No ***** given.
No holding back.
I spoke my mind.

I was such a fun loving person before I met you.
And this song made me realize that I had given so much of myself to you, and along the devastating way, I lost myself.
I lost so much of myself trying to love you.

The songs called "Don't let me stop you by Kelly Clarkson."
Below is my version revised of her original song.


I used to be a little bit shy.
Little bit broken inside.
I kept my deepest feelings inside.
Speaking up to anyone about my feelings has always been hard.
But this just can't wait.

I finally found myself again.
I'm feeling pretty brave.
So no more holding back with you.

This is gonna sound kind of silly,
But I couldn't help but notice
Feeling like there's something between us.

But I'm not into games.
Got no patience for that kind of game.
If you don't need to be with me,
And I don't need to hold on,

Then by all means...

Don't let me let me stop you,
From doing what you wanna do.
If You don't wanna stick with me just it's cool.
It'll take me no time getting over you.

I'm not glass baby.
If you wanna leave baby you can leave.
Just don't pretend that you're into me.

There's a lot of things I can take.
Got a high threshold for pain.
But let's get one thing straight,
I'm not down to share you with anyone.
If that's not what you're looking for..
****, nice knowing you, but honey there's the door.

I'm not worried, cause I know that I can find someone who'll give me what I want.

I don't wanna hear goodbye,
But either way I'll be just fine.
Inspired by Kelly Carkson (Don't let me stop you.)

It's so crazy how moving music can be.
a May 2015
a shell, contoured and carved with an aged elegance so accentuated that it practically screams its 'i'm so much better than you' chant, or
rather than scream, it whispers it softly for only my misshaped ears to hear, so that the dignified mutter echoes like a beautiful musical instrument played wrong in the crevices of my head
and
i stupidly stand, my feet sinking in the so-tainted sand, trying to come up with a retort, witty and cold enough to knock jeremy clarkson off his feet and back into top gear following a mild repercussion aimed at a light-hearted  producer - instead of acknowledging the fact that it is a ******* shell on a ******* beach
but
miss common-sense-defying with the too-happy polka-dotty headscarf and the five-minute-hipster-outfit that took an hour and thirteen minutes to form is intimidated by the shell that reminds her incomprehensibly of herself.
she's been reading too much john green.
or she's realising the truth, that she is an empty shell on a beach so trodden on that hansel and gretal would lose their footprints, that she is beauty and magnificence and elegance but she is empty, made of things she takes away from her television endeavors and her bookshelf, and she is empty.
Quettevio Mar 2017
my kind of guy is quiet, sort of,
my kind of guy wears long-sleeve striped shirt,
my kind of guy has voice so warm and encouraging it makes me feel brave,
my kind of guy listens to ed sheeran and sam smith and knows i love kelly clarkson,
my kind of guy wears black shoes on daily basis like a charm,
my kind of guy gives me a bottle of water when i was dehydrated without i even realized,
my kind of guy saves the hardest thing for himself,
my kind of guy sacrifices his own freedom for a friend,
my kind of guy is ambitiously calming,
my kind of guy babbles non-sense and laughs at his own jokes,
my kind of guy receives a scholarship and is an internal field coordinator at student council,
my kind of guy loves to listen to people like it's the bestest thing to do,
my kind of guy has the kindest eyes and smile so endearing, the kind of smile that doesn't take away your breath but grows the even bigger smile on your face,


my kind of guy is him,
my kind of guy is the kind of guy
i don't deserve.
Marshal Gebbie May 2014
Interesting that we older men now flag our own decline
Composted in this shameful ruse enacted over time.
We point to prime examples of our keynote men of age
De Niro, Keitel, Clooney, Hurt…all class acts, on the stage.
Take Clarkson, Rush, O’Toole and Bean…they brim like vintage wine,
Having come to terms with baldness and the sagging paunch decline.
Like them, we’ve learned the lesson of absurdity of life,
Where the trick to aged contentedness, is to pacify the wife.
An awareness of fragility in that pending death is near,
Is offset by the peace of mind of subdued *** and beer.
We say, to Hell with gradual fade of hairline, health and wealth
When a crystal glass of single malt can smooth it all by stealth.
So quell the racing, thudding heart, lean back in wisdom’s shine,
Secure in that with shaky hand…We can still quaff vintage wine.
And should the youth lose patience with a hesitancy there
We can usually still their arrogance with a knowing senior stare,
And should there be a question of a competency still?
Remind them their tomorrow too.. is running fast downhill.
Don’t sweat it with the walker, for it all arrives too soon
And sweetly on the wireless there was Perry Como’s croon,
Take comfort in the fact that soon they’ll put us out to grass
When oblivion comes creeping in Altzheimers foggy clasp.
To tabulate the good and bad within this lifetime’s span
Leaves the negatives predominant, should truth reveal her hand,
It becomes a bit obsessive when the mind’s allowed to dwell
For around the corner, probably, …. is a one way trip to Hell.

M.
Pukehana Paradise
Auckland NZ
May 7 2014
C S Cizek Aug 2014
I-81 North towards Hazleton.
                   Exit to Hazleton.
Merge left away from Mahanoy
City exit.
           Luzerne County crossing.
                             I always thought the spheres on telephone wires were kids' basketballs that got stuck in the sky.
    Three New York plates in half a mile.
                              151 A or B?  
Kelly Clarkson tells me through static that I don't know a thing about her.
    Water beads on plastic cup lids by the "diet" indent, but never goes in.
          Americans are water.
                      Lemonade clots the cuts
                      on my lips.
The car's a few years old but still carries its dealership scent.
                   Adjacent drivers keep their
                   lazy eyes on their phones.
Prismatic flashes through tinted windows from a woman changing CDs.
           Oaks in the distance overtake
           stores and church steeples.
                *The earth is theirs.
What I saw and driving directions on a trip to Wilkes Barre, PA.
anthony Brady Apr 2018
Has a petrol-head called Clarkson
run out of speedy road to park on?
Because of his late meal,
his producer got a weal.
Now his fans wail: “Oh Dear!
It’s a dead  end for “TOP GEAR.”

Seems the wheels have come off
for this brazen non-PC toff.
Is it the end of the ride
for Chipping Norton’s pride
and no clear  Right of Way
for chums Hammond and May?

No sensible man would scupper,
his own TV slot for a cold supper.
Yet there’s alpha males who dread,
TOP GEAR’S due for a feminist retread.
Go girls! Vroom! Vroom! Time for you instead.

TOBIAS
A slightly dated ditty. The Guardian bloggers liked it circa March 2015
clmathew May 2021
~Can someone just hold me?
Don't fix me, don't try to change me
Can someone just know me?
Cause underneath, I'm broken and it's beautiful

—"Broken & Beautiful", Sung by Kelly Clarkson. Written by Steve Mac, John Mcdaid, Alecia B Moore, Marshmello

Are you like me?
written May 25th, 2021

I look for
reflections of myself
in the world
that aren't apologies
or clinical definitions of hurt
more than
an easy cliche in a song
but it is a start.

I listen to songs
read books and poems
watch tv shows and movies,
when I see a hint of familiarity
I get so ****** excited
"Are you like me?!?
No? Sorry, my bad."

So I keep looking
trying to be brave
making expeditions into the world
while holding close
the book I find
the people I know and knew
who know me.

I don't tell anyone
what I am looking for
leaving it up to chance
hoping that fate
will bump us together
long enough to find out

Are you like me?
That song bothers me a bit. I would never create something that was broken intentionally. It's far from an ideal way to live life, but since I am this way, I need to find the beauty in it. I need to find people who can hold me and know me. Go listen to the Kelly Clarkson song. The depth of her voice makes that song.

Of course I love so many people who aren't like me, and there are people who know me who aren't like me, but I want to see myself somewhere in the world. Thank you to the artists who write themselves for the world to see.
Qualyxian Quest Nov 2020
Sometimes a book can transform your life
For me it was David Markson

I read him literally thousands of times
While others listened to Kelly Clarkson

Who is this guy?  I kept asking
And what have I discovered?

His last four novels, if you call them that
A reading experience like no other

A toast to you, Mr. Markson
And your wisdom way with words

You are now my companion
In this life grown American Absurd

You are a true genius.
Have they heard?
Yenson Nov 2023
We will **** him up
We will bug him non-stop
mess up his head and alter his personality
We will terrorize his mind and **** it
He won't know who he is
He will only exist, not live
( as if that's not a classic oxymoron )
He is banned from ever making a meaningful relationship
Anything he says will be used against him
He will never trust anybody again
By the time we finish with him, he would wish he was dead

Hey! hey, what did he do?

We, the Red Left Wing, Nihilisism Faction and in colaboration with Local Criminal Gangs solemnly declare above proclaimations in
solidarity with the MaCarffety Criminal family, who as underdogs
exercise their Human Rights to break into their next door neighbour's flat and burgle them.

Hey! hey, what did he do

This neighbour were two decent hardworking, Law-abiding couple, with double income, a good car and a prosperous future ahead, so why should they complain when the Macarfetty Criminal Family burgled them. Though the MaCarfetty are a dysfunctional drunken Layabout bad'uns, they are the underdogs and thus deserve our solidarity and the couple burgled deserved to be ruined and sent back to Square One.

Hey! hey, what did he do

THUS THE PROCLAIMATIONS ABOVE IS HELD AND EFFECTED.....So be it, we look after our own...Innit..!!

================================================­===========
Those of you with a sense of humoir may enjoy the article below by Jeremy Clarkson, published recently ....

WHEN the Labour Party was formed at the beginning of the 20th century, its main aim was to turn Britain into a proto-Marxist state.
But among all the communistical twaddle, there was always a noble goal. It wanted to look after the little guy.
The miner who spent 27 hours a day at the coal face. And the factory worker who spent all week not quite making Austin Allegros.
The trouble is that today there are no pits, and robots do most of the heavy lifting in the car plants.
So the Labour Party has switched its focus to a new type of little guy.
The oppressed minorities. It doesn’t matter how mad these minorities might be, Sir Starmer’s merry band of weird beards is always ready to give them a hug and a cup of ginger-infused nuclear-free peace tea.
Transgenderists. Vegetablists. People from the far end of the LGBTQIAP+ acronym.
The Just Stop Oil mob and their mates in Extinction Rebellion.
All these people are the new miners
And this is what frightens me about the inevitability of a Labour victory in the next general election.
Sir Starmer may stand there under his Playmobil hair, pretending to be sensible, but behind him there’s an army of Corbyn enthusiasts who don’t really care about the economy, or law and order, or immigration.
Those are middle-class issues, mainstream issues, so they don’t matter.
What does matter in the socialist heartland — the sixth-form common room — is the little guy.
So, there will be new laws to ensure that if you so much as look at a ginger in a funny way, or you express displeasure at some herbert who’s glued himself to the road, or you employ a man, you will be charged with a hate crime.
It’s already hard enough for older people to keep up with the changes.
I had 60 years of knowing for sure that women didn’t have penises.
And then, in the past three, I’ve been told that actually, some of them do.
And I must accept that or else. And there’s more.
All of the jokes we laughed at in the Seventies will become illegal.
All the things we said to our friends. All of the TV shows we watched. All the chants we sang at football matches. Every WhatsApp we’ve ever shared. We must forget them all and accept that everything we’ve ever thought or learned or said or done is now offensive and wrong. That’s going to be hard. Let me put it this way.
If you took a kind-hearted lefty from an uber-woke town like Brighton and made them live in Tehran, they may try to fit in.
But at some point they’re going to accidentally do something they didn’t even realise was a crime. And they’ll wind up with no head.
Red-baiting, also known as reductio ad Stalinum and red-tagging (in the Philippines), is an intention to discredit the validity of a political opponent and the opponent's logical argument by accusing, denouncing, attacking, or persecuting the target individual. The phrase, red refers to the color that traditionally symbolized left-wing politics worldwide since the 19th century, while baiting refers to persecution, torment, or harassment, as in baiting.

— The End —